


Boss Battle Royale

by Laina_Inverse, RiaHawk



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Extreme AU, Multi-boss au, Other, SR4 AU, Zinyak clings to the Idiot Ball
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-10 00:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16459973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laina_Inverse/pseuds/Laina_Inverse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaHawk/pseuds/RiaHawk
Summary: Zinyak done fucked up. The Saints were spread much wider than his initial assumption, which makes capturing the interesting memebrs of the group something of a trial. Especially when one Kinzie Kensington starts collecting them into one location.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And here we have another thing I can and do *absolutely* blame on Ria. Also on my getting a laptop that runs Saints Row 3 and 4, BUT MOSTLY ON RIA because she encouraged this.

Kinzie

 

Everyone thinks they know everything there is to know about the Saints. In the digital age, it's not too hard to learn more. Which, of course, makes everyone _dead wrong_ , especially now that I'm in charge of the information that gets out.

Since the mid 2000's, they, we, had been a force of change. I was the first one they recruited after the Boss murdered Loren in Steelport. (stupid Miller and his stupid... anyways.) Along with tracking the Deckers, Boss put me in charge of making sure a lot of Saints information never went too public.

So everyone thinks the Saints are a pretty small street gang-slash-commecial-enterprise.

I swear, if I didn't know any better, and if the Zin hadn't screwed everything up, they might actually have consolidated some serious control over the United States. Though I guess things couldn't get too much worse, all things considered.

Anyways.

Everyone thinks they know the Saints. A Stillwater gang that rose after the Boss was almost assassinated by the former gang leader, Julius Little to become a commercialized gang that made more money doing movie deals and things like that than they ever had as a street gang.

Which, of course, is why the Syndicate tried to take them over. Idiots. You know, they would've walked away once Loren was dead. Killbane was just a poor loser. Which I guess is good for me, since I never would've been pulled off that boat otherwise.

It wasn't hard to pick out information on them, not really. They didn't have a tech person half as good as me, so getting all the files on each and every one of them was child's play.

Which is how I learned how big the Saints _really_ are. If the Zin hadn't attacked Earth, I'm pretty sure there would have been an official Saint gang in every major city.

A girl known as Candy took over Stillwater while the Boss was in Steelport. She's... okay. I've met scarier, but she uses that to her advantage. Who thinks a five-foot-tall, ninety-pounds-soaking-wet white girl with a sugar-sweet smile is a threat?

Then there's the twins. Sunny and Stormy are their nicknames. When the Boss moved to taking out Cyrus Temple, they were left in charge of Steelport. They kind of fit their names; Sunny's super laid back, and doesn't pick fights. She ends them. _Stormy_ picks fights and can be straight up homicidal, but then... I mean, that's kind of normal for the Saints. You know?

Blue runs a town called Amiel, down south. She seems pretty cool-headed. Found out she used to be in the Rollerz until they killed her girlfriend. Like, her actual girlfriend who was a Saint. From what I heard about that event, it was messy... She didn't join up with the Saints until the Boss came out of their coma, and I was told it was a pretty rough fight, but they worked it out.

Then there's Ritsuko. She's... not really a boss. Something about being an anarchistic, nihilistic bitch with no respect for authority, and definitely no desire for it. Boss kept her around to be a bodyguard once they became President, which seemed to suit everyone.

And there's definitely others. The gangs weren't spread _thin_ , but they weren't entirely interconnected either. You had to _apply_ , basically, to be part of the Saints, and being a Boss was less about application and more about... well, owning your murderous tendencies, and being able to lead without killing everyone who questioned you.

So, basically, being the head of a corporation.

And it worked really well. I mean, every Saints gang had their own colors, but they were all tied together by being part of the Saints. Also, the fleur de lis. They didn't _exactly_ report to me, but I tended to get all that information anyways. Boss cared a little, but mostly about the other bosses, not so much the income, or what they were doing in their cities.

And then the Zin came.

Everything's so wrong now. Maybe I should have pushed this harder, or... or just found some way to make the Boss _listen_ to me. I mean, I know I have a thing for conspiracy theories, but it's not really a _theory_ when I'm _right_.

Maybe then, Boss... the President... wouldn't have died.

I'm out though. They didn't even get me into one of those tubes before I was out and stealing a ship _and_ Keith David out from under them. We're kind of in hiding right now with the ship and the stuff we stole. Zinyak's harvesting people from Earth right now, and even though I want him to stop, I know we're going to need like... an army.

We need more Saints.

Plus, I need more time to study this simulation. It's very Matrix, all layered up in crap. I mean, it's impressive, but it's still computers, and even if it's alien tech, I _know_ computers better than anyone else.

And maybe I'm kind of hoping that one of the others will make it here and I can track them down. I'm tapped into Zin communications, which lets me monitor a lot of their chatter. For an alien species, they sure do speak English pretty well.... I mean that does make it easy to figure out what's going on, but it's weird.

Oh well.

Better stop recording now. Back to work.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Blue

 

Amiel was a quiet city for the most part, now that she'd taken it over. It had been her place for the better part of seven years now, and everything ran precisely how _she_ wanted it to. Less chaos than Stillwater and Steelport by far, but then, everyone had their own way of running a Saints Gang. Blue's way was minimal casualties, and don't involve civilians.

It had worked pretty well, all things considered. Oh, all the formalities were observed, the cops were paid off, and you could find an underbelly of rebellion if you looked hard enough, but for the most part, Blue's rule was complete, and calm.

Which was, of course, why she had so much gods-be-damned _paperwork_ to deal with all the time. Not that her lieutenants had any less...

Blue pushed away from her desk, padding across a plush carpet in a deep ocean blue that was a near match for her favorite color, and went over to the window. Down in the streets below, she could see cars scuttling along, and people, the size of ants, crowded the public venues. Tourist season was in full swing, but something about the crowd...

“Boss! Boss! Turn on the TV, shit's going down in DC!”

She turned at the shout; her people didn't usually sound so panicked.

“What? What is going on?”

“Just turn on the TV, you gotta see this shit!”

Well, far be it from her to demand a second time. She strode rapidly back to her desk, grabbed the remote and turned on the news.

And stared.

Alien aircraft? Fucking _alien aircraft_ above the White House?

“-lready half the white house staff has been caught up by this invasion!” The reporter was shouting to be heard over the gunfire and explosions that were tearing the lawn behind them to shreds. “The President is leading the charge as far as we can tell, with some sort of defensive turret activated at the south portico!”

That got a half-smile from Blue; of course that bastard would have put in some turrets. They never did anything by halves. But how had they been caught so off-guard as to lose half the staff?

The camera angle switched; a helicopter view this time, though it was bouncing all over the place. She could see the President in their giant damn gun—she had to admit to a grudging respect for that—blowing alien ships out of the sky like it was a damn game.

And then it stopped being a game as one ship flipped end over end, and slammed into the turret with an explosion that shook the helicopter.

“Mon dieu...”

Blue stared for a long moment, then snapped the screen off and strode out into the room where her lieutenants and subordinates were still watching with a mix of stunned and horrified expressions. She turned that TV off as well, and clapped her hands briskly, snapping them to attention.

“Anton, you are on communication; phone lines need to be clear. Marinette; digital work is yours. Email _everyone_. Matte, Piro, go to the stores _now,_ and take everyone in your teams with you. Steal or buy, I do not care which, but load up as if we are preparing for a hurricane. The rest of you; guns and munitions, get them out of storage and start handing them to everyone who can shoot straight.”

“Boss, what's-”

“ _Did I stutter?_ ”

They moved.

Blue went back into her office, and entered a code on her keypad; the bookshelves turned, opened, and revealed her own personal armory. She stripped as she wondered just who of the people that had been with the President _might_ be available now. Kinzie? No, Kinzie would have been one of the first taken.

In fact, it was likely that none of the core remained; they had all been given places as White House staff, and the aliens had seemed to concentrate their efforts there. That was going to make coordination difficult, as Blue had mostly fallen out of touch with everyone _except_ Kinzie after that whole disaster that had been Steelport.

She pushed those thoughts away and finished gearing up; long range weapon necessity meant that she was going to have to leave a good chunk of her arsenal behind. The bat, most of the swords and knives that weren't balanced for throwing...

It felt.... oddly good to be back in combat boots again, though. She'd never stopped going out and doing fieldwork, but as more and more paperwork had come in, her chances to get out and have good, clean fights had become fewer.

She smiled a little, if grimly, and pulled on a trenchcoat over the top of the arsenal, then strode out of her office.

“Boss, here!”

Her hand snapped out and she caught the keys that had been headed for her face. She looked at them, then at Marta, who was geared up and looked ready to go to war. Marta nodded grimly.

“We kinda figured you were gonna want to take the fight to them,” she said in her thick, Jamaican accent. “Attack chopper's fueled, armed, and we got a crew waitin to go.”

Blue nodded shortly. Marta was her second in command, and would be the one in charge while she was away.

“Fortify, settle in, and communicate,” she replied. “Blockade the police, but not the army; we'll need the latter much more than the former.”

“You got it.”

“And remember the big guns. Le président had the right idea if... too much enthusiasm. Sacrifice no more than necessary, and get the civilians to leave once those bastards are within range.”

Marta nodded, and Blue made for the roof.

 

-

 

Getting to DC took time, effort, and a _lot_ of radio chatter. For once, the military didn't seem to care about the dark blue attack choppers that were zipping by overhead; they had much more pressing details to attend to.

“ _Almost there_ ,” came the pilot's warning. “ _The air is_ full _of these bastards, though. We're not going to be able to get too close._ ”

“Get us as close as you can, mon amie,” Blue replied, checking the magazine of the semi-auto in her lap. “We can rappel if necessary.”

“ _Boss, what're we doin?_ ”

“We're providing support, and gathering information,” she said shortly. “Treat it as one of Anton's recons. Engage at your own discretion, and if you must die, take one of the alien baiseurs with you. Turn on the camera and audio feeds in your helmets the moment you hit dirt, mes amies, for we are playing no games today. Any and all information we get back to Amiel, and can pass on to any other Saints leaders, is worth every rocket and bullet spent.”

The helicopter jerked, and there was much multi-lingual swearing as people braced themselves against the floor.

“ _Merde_ , what the fuck is going on up there?!” Blue demanded.

“ _Pardon_ , _Boss; aliens just tried to shoot us._ ”

She muttered darkly under her breath, feeling the heli swinging in a wide arc.

“ _You're gonna have to jump. Between the army in the street and the aliens in their ships, there's no clear spot._ ”

“Bonne chance, mes amies!” Blue cried, throwing open the side door to the chopper. “We meet again on the other side!”

She hated jumping out of helicopters. But she did it anyways, launching herself into the sky.

 

-

 

She snapped into awareness with a jolt, looking around wildly. Not thirty seconds ago there had been gunfire, furious military, screaming civilians and angry gray aliens.

Now she was in a room awash in luxury; the chaise lounge she'd apparently been dozing on was a plush blue velvet, and the blanket that had fallen on the floor matched it in color, woven of the softest chenille. She wasn't wearing battle torn and worn jeans, or jacket, she was in a silk shirt and loose yoga pants.

Before her was a large fireplace, a mirror set on the mantle, and the reflected room was a study; books filled the floor to ceiling shelves, and a solid oak desk dominated the middle of the room, covered in papers, pens, and more books.

Blue scrubbed her face, feeling bewildered. A dream? Had that all been nothing more than a dream?

She stood up, absently gathering the blanket to herself to be draped around her shoulders. What had she been doing again, before she'd dozed off on this lounge? Maybe if she had some tea she'd be able to clear this strange fog from her head...

 


End file.
